The Trouble with Tomboys (Tommy Creek #1)(9)

He arched her a warning look that ordered her not to cause trouble.

Yeah, she remembered that about him too. He

was a rule follower. He didn’t break protocol, and he didn’t engage in scandalous, spur-of-the moment actions.

Prepared to insult his moral sensibilities, B.J.

was a little surprised when the next hostess merely smiled at their approach. Damn, there went her opportunity to cause another ruckus.

“Is it just the two of you tonight?” the perky woman asked, already grabbing a pair of menus.

Grady nodded and moved aside to let B.J.

precede him. It felt funny, being the recipient of his chivalry. He’d opened two doors for her already, and now he was letting the lady go first. It was disconcerting and boldly reminded her how male he was. When they were seated near a dance floor, B.J.

rolled her eyes and plopped down in her seat before he could do something really crazy, like hold out her chair for her.

“Jesus, I hate dancing,” she muttered and

watched the couples on the floor swinging and swaying about, though she had to admit, dancing with Grady Rawlings would be an experience. She could already imagine herself in his arms, pressed against him, showing him just how much of a woman she was under all that tomboy.

She caught him looking at her oddly and

frowned. “What?”

“Is there anything you do like?” he said.

“Yeah,” she grumbled. “I like medium rare

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steak, ice cold beer straight from the bottle, and a heaping pile of onion rings.”

That was exactly what she requested too when a waitress approached seconds later. After putting in her order, she glanced toward Grady. “You want something to drink, Slim? I’ll pay since I dragged you out here.”

He shook his head and glanced at the waitress.

“I’ll take a glass of water.”

B.J. rolled her eyes. “Get him a Bud...Light.”

Grady didn’t say anything to contradict her, so the waitress moved away with a nod.

Finally, he asked, “Should you be drinking while you fly?”

B.J. wrinkled her nose. “You see me flying?”

When he merely gave her a don’t-be-a-smart-mouth-with-me frown, she sighed. “We’re not leaving till eight in the morning. As long as I quit by midnight, you’ll be okay. I won’t stumble onto the plane tomorrow, slurring and slobbering, so just relax, Slim.”

Grady glanced away. As he watched a pair of

dancers, she couldn’t help but wonder if his thoughts veered toward Amy. She remembered seeing the two of them dance together. Amy had loved to dance, and he’d loved to make her happy.

Half tempted to stand, shouting for the music to stop so he wouldn’t be assaulted with any

bittersweet memories, B.J. latched onto her beer as soon as it arrived and proceeded to guzzle.

He turned from the dancers and surprised her when he said, “Why did you order me a light and not an ultra?”

B.J. took a long draw before setting her bottle down and letting out a refreshed sigh. “I don’t know,” she said. “You look like a light kind of guy.”

He held himself back, as if not wanting to enjoy life to the fullest. “Why? Was I wrong?”

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Linda Kage



“No,” he murmured and studied his own drink

thoughtfully.

“Then what’s the big deal?”

A half shrug later, he answered, “Just curious.”

But she could already guess the reason. He

didn’t like a woman knowing too much about his tastes and preferences. It was an only-my-wife-should-know-how-I-take-my-coffee kind of thing.

Such intimacy with another female didn’t sit well.

B.J. swallowed when he silently reached out to catch a trail of condensation dripping off the side of his bottle. How he could make the move look as sensuous as it did, she’d never know. But, Lordy, she wanted to experience the feel of those long fingers trailing down her skin that way.

Finally, he lifted the draft for a long drink. She sensed he was ending a drought as he swallowed the first gulp. She wondered why he’d been without for so long. Was it because of Amy? Had he hit the cups too hard after her death? B.J. didn’t think so. For one thing, she hadn’t heard any rumors about him becoming an alcoholic, and more important, he didn’t look guilty about drinking. So she had to figure he was clear to proceed.

She found herself watching his gaze move

around the room, studying the different tables and different people. He had such a detached expression, he’d be awesome at poker. She could see his mind work but couldn’t even guess what thoughts emerged from his detailed inspection. She found herself resting her chin on her hand and her elbow on the table to watch him scrutinize his surroundings.

The boy was in dire need of a haircut, but she liked the shaggy look he had going. He was

incredibly gorgeous...in a sad, depressed sort of way.

She just wanted to give him a hug and wipe the hair out of his face. While she was touching him, she 28



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wouldn’t mind undoing the top button on his collar to give him some air.

Hell, while she was at it, she might as well shed him of his whole shirt. This was her daydream, wasn’t it? She could think about stripping him naked if she wanted. And, well, yeah, she really did want to.